Sunday, 6 February 2011

Finding my voice

Well as I type (OK, I get M&D to do the keys) I’m resting against Mum all warm and snugly. So warm and snugly that I sometimes have to be reminded to breathe. When this happens Mum just gives me a little jiggle and all is normally well again.

A slight fuss getting me out

Me with my A for Arthur blanket

And I’ve found my voice! More of a little squeak at the moment but you can hear it on this clip, if you listen really closely:

I’ve also been practicing scaring Daddy with my numbers – my WBC (white cell count, an infection marker) got to 28 last night which would be super-high in a grown up. The nice registrar explained to Dad that my blood isn’t like grown up blood so can confuse the machines, and they’ll have to use a microscope to count my cells by hand. In the meantime I continue to look perfectly well. I’m taking feeds, my tummy is soft, my tummy button looks clean and healthy. Dad changed my nappy – and whilst I fought him like mad, he managed a fairly good job. They’ve upgraded me to the next size of nappy. Apparently I’ll grow into it!

When I’m pressed against Mum or Dad I manage to be very calm and my oxygen needs go right down. So Mum sang me: ‘Speckled Frogs’ and ‘Twinkle, twinkle little star’ to keep me amused. Then she sang something about living in a yellow submarine – but I’m not sure I want to live underwater, so I held my breath for quite a long time and made everyone come and prod me and check me over. Then I just decided to breath again and it's all better.

Checking you're ok

Proud Mummy

Can I also say thank you to all the people who’ve agreed to feed Mum and Dad while they have their kitchen replaced over the next few weeks. Apparently I need a shiny new kitchen to come home to and this means the old kitchen has to go. Daddy’s already getting thinner – so look after him.